


What happens in Chile, stays in Chile...

by orphan_account



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Episode: Top Gear Bolivia Special, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Viagra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 14:35:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2113587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They pretended the Viagra didn't work on them for the cameras. They didn't have to pretend when they were left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What happens in Chile, stays in Chile...

James' car broke down, mysteriously. He couldn't find out what was wrong with it, and was beginning to get quite pissed off. He sent the crew on, telling them that he might be a while, and he reckoned the viewers "won't want to see me effing and blinding at something stupid when I can't even think". As they were on the way back down the damned volcano, Jeremy had abandoned his whole "team" idea, and encouraged everyone to listen to him.  
Secretly, he was glad. He didn't want Jeremy there to gloat over his misfortune.

He really couldn't think. Even halfway down the volcano, there was nowhere near enough air. His brain was flailing. He tried to count to ten and got stuck after six. And, on top of that, the damned Viagra kicked in about twenty minutes after they took it. 

All he did was think about how much fun he could have with it if only he wasn't in a car, and suddenly he had even more trouble thinking. There really wasn't anywhere near enough oxygen in his system for that to be safe.

While Jeremy left along with the crew, Richard pulled over, largely because he needed a break from driving. He felt drunk, and his leg was getting horrible pins and needles. Regardless of the lack of traffic, or any life whatsoever, he didn't think it was wise to keep driving in that condition.

"So, any idea what's wrong with it?", he asked, staggering towards James' car. He clung to James' roof and swayed slightly, trying to focus.

James glared at him, and tersely replied "no" before going back to fiddling with it.

"...any idea what's wrong with you?" Richard persisted.

James inhaled deeply, clearing his brain somewhat. He was crouched over so that Richard wouldn't see one of the many things wrong with him - that would open a can of worms, and a whole load of awkwardness.

"My brain cannot function on so little air, or blood, and I am sweaty and disgusting and I don't know what's wrong with this damn thing."

Richard looked at the mess under the bonnet, and to James, hunched and cross-looking. His brain was beginning to swim again, so he sucked in a huge lungful of air. It was still distracted. It kept thinking about times he'd been with James before. Vague deja vu at seeing beads of sweat roll off James' nose and drip onto the hot engine. Flashes of things gone before.

He shook his head violently and took another vital gulp.

James looked up and scowled. "Are you here to help, or to take the piss?"

"Neither. I'm too oxygenless to concentrate, and I have a headache; I need a break."

"Then please take your break away from me so I can go absolutely nowhere in peace?"

"Nah. I'll fall asleep and die, or something."

James looked at Hammond properly. He looked as utterly fucked as James felt. He felt suddenly less angry, and a bit more preoccupied with his trouser issue. Just something about him all tousled and unwashed made him shudder. Made him remember. Made him want again...

No.

"Fine. Stay. Just don't distract me." He'd have a harder time obeying that than he realised.

Hammond nodded. "Do you want me to have a look at it? Two heads are better than one and all that."

James grunted an affirmation, sick of looking for something that probably didn't exist. He shuffled away from the front of the car, still hiding his front as best he could.

Richard stuck his head right into the bonnet. He looked for exactly the same things as James had, naturally. Covered all the basics. Took a quick look underneath the thing. He was quite as baffled as James was.

Although presently James was baffled by other things. Why he found himself staring at Richard's legs poking out from underneath the vehicle.

"Jesus H..." he muttered, quietly, staring, his mind wandering half on Richard, half on remembering to breathe.

"What's that?" came Richard's voice from below.

James panicked. "Just. I'm a mess. Get out from there, if it doesn't work, I'll bail out and hitch a ride with you, okay? I'm not up to messing about with it."

Richard pushed himself out from underneath the car, and looked at him quizzically.

"It's not like you to give up that easily. It's only been fifteen minutes, tops. I'm sure it'll work."

Chewing on his bottom lip, trying to prevent himself from saying something very stupid, James grunted again.

"You're not very talkative," Richard noted. He also noted that he had seen James biting his lip before and that he wasn't supposed to think about that, not any more.

James was starting to go rather red. He felt his face burning up. He remembered that flushing was a side-effect of Viagra. That just made him even more embarrassed by it.

Richard had noticed the blush, all up his cheeks. He was getting aroused and he was trying his best not to because he was scared of what would happen if he did.

"Seriously," he blurted, trying to avoid an awkward silence, "not talking?"

"Please. Just. Go back to your car and drive on and I'll catch up as soon as it's working and if it doesn't I'll get you on the radio, okay? Just go ahead, bugger off with Jeremy."

Richard raised his eyebrow. James was acting bizarre.

"Don't look at me like that, Richard." It made him twitch.

"What's wrong? Really?"

James focused on inhaling. Didn't want to tell Richard. Didn't want to start all that. Didn't want to risk it. Averted his gaze.

But Richard got into his line of vision which involved getting a little bit too close to James.

"James?" he probed, "I'm beginning to get worried, mate, what is it?"

He knew it was a big mistake but his body took over and he grabbed Richard by the cheeks and kissed him, hard, and pinned him up against the car. He savoured every second he got before he'd have to pull away for air, or before Richard's brain caught up with what happened and he pushed him away, whichever came first. Fearing the former, and at least having control over it, he took in as much as he could with his nostrils, despite them being crushed into Richard's face. It all felt so familiar, he remembered what it was like before, before they vowed not to do this again, decided that it was an all-round bad idea when they nearly got caught, but it was so goddamn good, it was...

Richard pushed him away.

He looked like he had just been punched, rather than kissed. He gasped in a lot of air, partly through shock, partly through necessity.

"I thought we agreed not to do this?" he finally managed to spit out, stammering, shaking.

"I know. But. Viagra. I already can't focus and this isn't helping."

James was looking pointedly at anywhere but Richard, despite still being less than a foot away from him.

"I don't think this is a good idea, James."

"Neither do I, but I tried... getting rid of it. It didn't work. I need you. Please. Just once."

"I don't think-"

"No. No thinking. Just touching. Please." And with that, he grabbed Richard's hand, placed it on his own crotch.

Richard felt him, closed his eyes. Tilted his head back and hit it off the side of the car.

"Not. A good. Idea, James."

"You want to, though, don't you?" James was becoming more animal by the second, predatory. He pinned Richard in, placed his hands either side of his head against the metal of the car. His precious breath was hitching in his throat and he didn't care.

"Please," he hissed again, and Richard sighed, heavily. Calmed, all the tension released from his body. James kept talking, anyway.  
"It can only be you, it'll only be good enough with you, you know how good it'll feel, for me, and for you... Please..."

"Fine. Just this once." Both hands around James' neck, suddenly, pulling him downwards, and bit his lip, pulling him even closer by the flesh. James moaned, pushed his body against Richard's, rubbed his crotch against his former, what, lover? secret? They never did label it, it was always just raw fucking, touching, breathing and biting. It always hurt. It always felt good.

Richard went for James' belt buckle. Fumbling, he got it, eventually, practically ripped open the buttons on the fly, reached his fingers inside and wrapped his fingers firmly around him.

James moaned, his shoulders sagging, finally getting what he needed. He stuck his hand down Richard's trousers, and kissed him, stroked him. He was already hard.

Richard suddenly tensed up again. "Should we get in one of our cars?"

"Why?"

"What if some of the crew comes back?"

James scoffed. "They never do, if we're left behind, we're left behind, you know that. Why, do you have another reason?"

Richard looked, worried, down the long road ahead.

"I just don't want to get caught. I don't want to have to finish this again."

"Stop it. No talking." James didn't acknowledge that he'd changed his tack from 'just once' to 'I don't want this to stop.' He didn't want him to change his mind.

Richard looked at him, and James saw how worried he was. So he stroked a sole finger up and down Richard's cock and saw the furrows in his brow disappear, and his eyes roll back, just a little.

They worked up a rhythm together, and it all came flooding back to them, how incredible it felt. Richard bit James' jumper. James kept his eyes open the whole time, capturing every single little detail in case this really was the last time. He had a suspicion that the next time they were alone, and thousands of miles from their partners, they would end up in each others' underwear again, but if he was wrong, he wanted to remember how Richard Hammond looked when his eyes were scrunched up, and how his teeth looked while gripping firmly on his jumper, and how his hair was ruffled, and how his stubble just rubbed off his own jacket and even if he was right, he wanted to remember it, for nights alone, he knew this mental image would help.

He suddenly realised he was quite close.

"Richard. Are you...?"

"Yes. Don't talk. Don't stop."

He didn't.

James came first. He had been desperate for almost an hour, even after he'd slyly serviced himself in the car, he was still so hard it was nearly painful. He finally closed his eyes when he did, lurched his head forward and hit it off of the car. Richard's hand kept going 'til James made him stop, too sensitive to be touched. His come dripped off of Hammond's wrist, and apparently he was very well aware of that: he lifted it up to his mouth and licked it off, sloppily, maintaining eye contact as James groaned, trying to focus on getting his partner off.

And he did. Richard bit his arm midway through licking it, muffling his moan. His eyes went wide, and James had to hold him up, despite his own jellied legs.

They leaned on each other, for a while, recovering.

Richard spoke first.

"That was a mistake."

James sighed, afraid of this.

"Probably. It doesn't matter. Let's try the car again, and if it works, we'll get going?"

He didn't want to get into a silly 'feelings' talk. He knew fine well it wasn't about feelings, and he knew Hammond knew that, but it would inevitably turn that way, turn... well, girly.

Thankfully, Hammond understood. Nodded, and put the bonnet down for him. James got in and tried the engine again. It took a couple of spluttering tries, but it eventually turned over.

Peeking his head in the open window, Richard asked, "...so what was wrong with it?"

James shook his head.

"I probably did something horrifically stupid and didn't even notice. Can we please pretend that the engine overheated or something so that Jeremy doesn't call me an utter tool, please?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Richard sighed.

They exchanged a significant look, just as Richard walked towards his car. James rolled down his window, and was about to ask, 'do you need a hand starting up your car?', but Richard cut across him, with a worried look on his face,  
"Do we have to talk about this?"

James smiled a little.

"Not unless you want to. Certainly not now."

"Thank fuck. Sorry."

"It's fine, mate."

"Right."

James drove off, figuring giving him some help with the car now would be quite awkward.

 

They never did speak of it. Just acted as if it never happened, and waited to see if there would be a next time


End file.
